


Little Bird

by doctor_badass



Series: Fem!Slash February 2014 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Femslash February, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_badass/pseuds/doctor_badass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris, 1893. Castiel is rescued from the streets and offered a job working in a brothel. Deanna Winchester, a visiting American, takes a special interest in her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhh! I love this story idea so much! It's only a ficlet for now, but soon, soon, my lovelies, it shall become a beautiful work of art. I centered the time frame around the works of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, so check out his works to see what I inspired this off of!

Madame Crowley must have been having a damn good day when she recruited Castiel, because she had next to no talent and less than no francs, a poor mix for a girl working in a brothel.

“You just have one of those cute little faces,” Madame Crowley had replied when asked why Castiel had been rescued from the streets. “Like a little puppy dog. Men love that shit. Now stand up straighter, they’re not going to love you if you have the back of Quasimodo.”

The other girls, who had been lounging around the parlor room, fanning themselves and talking in the spare time they had before the brothel opened, all laughed. Meg, a woman with dark hair and sharp eyes, leapt to her feet, imitating the slumped walk of the hunchback. 

“When Ruby first got here, she walked like that, too! Remember, Ruby?” she laughed along with the other girls. 

Ruby scowled deeply. “Fuck you, Meg, I had scoliosis!” She stormed out, throwing her fan down on the floor. 

“Now you’ve get her in a mood, Meg,” Madame Crowley tutted, pulling the final strings tight on Castiel’s corset. “She’ll be grumpy for the rest of the day, and won’t get any customers.”

“Oh, of course she will,” Meg said, sauntering over to the large mirror which took up the wall over the bar. “Men go batshit over the scowling ones. They like it when they play hard to get.”

It was at this point that Castiel lost the ability to breathe and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

 

Her hearing came back to her first. A conversation was going on very close to her, a bit muffled, maybe behind a door. She recognized Madame Crowley’s slow, easy way of talking that made her dangerous, that made you want to obey her every command. But there were new voices, as well, that she knew didn’t belong to any of the girls working there. 

“-just came in from Bordeaux, we were seeing some old friends there, and Samantha blew all of her money on cards, so we had to get those francs back the hard way.”

Americans? Who knew their way around the French language, clearly. 

“How else have you been getting money?” Madame Crowley asked, her question accompanied by the sound of clinking glass as she poured her guests a glass of scotch. In the distance, Castiel could hear the laughter of women- clearly, business had begun for the day.

There was a scoff, presumably from the woman who had been speaking before. “I’d love to tell you that dear old mother had finally croaked and the family fortune has been pried from her cold, dead hands, but business is the same as usual for Samantha and I.”

Realizing that her first day on the job was, so far, a complete disaster, Castiel pulled herself up on the bed she was placed on, finding that her corset strings, the obvious cause of her problem, had been mercifully loosened by a sympathetic comrade. She carefully moved towards the door, hoping to get to the main room without attracting too much attention.

All hope was lost when she slowly opened the wooden door separating the bedroom she had lain in and the parlor where Madame Crowley sat with her visitors. The wooden door, an ancient thing, creaked horribly when moved even slightly. She froze as the visitors, their backs to her, turned abruptly upon hearing the sound. Madame Crowley, who was facing the doorway, simply raised an eyebrow.

“And who do we have here?” the shorter woman asked, her golden hair cropped close to her head and green eyes glinting.

“Ah, of course,” Madame Crowley said, standing. “Ladies, this is my newest recruit, Castiel. I plucked her from the filth of the streets only yesterday.”

“Pleased to meet you, mademoiselle,” the taller woman said politely, her hair a stark and long brown in contrast to her companion’s. “My name is Samantha Winchester, and this is my sister, Deanna. Madame Crowley is a long time friend of ours.”

Castiel nodded stiffly in reply, not quite sure what to say. In all honesty, this was the strangest job she’d ever had, as everyone was so mystifyingly polite to her. Having worked in the textile industry for most of her life, she’d never experienced such courtesy in a work environment before. 

The other sister, Deanna, was still staring at her with such a peculiar look in her eyes. She tried to avoid direct eye contact, feeling quite anxious about this entire affair.

“If you’ll pardon me, ladies, it’s Castiel’s first day on the job, and she’d probably like to get a start on her first client,” Madame Crowley said, leading her by the arm to the door. But just as she’d taken her first step into the main hall, the hungry eyes of men shifting to her and down her body, she was stopped.

“Actually, would you mind if I took her for the day? She’s undoubtedly come out ahead of the competition if she had an expert, such as myself, as her mentor.”

Castiel’s breath caught in her throat. There was a soft chuckle from Madame Crowley, and then she was being pushed back into the room, Samantha rising out of her seat and brushing past her with a small smile. 

And then there was a silence, and Deanna was just _watching_ her with those marvelous green eyes.

“Do you know what I do for a living, Castiel?”

Castiel shivered when her name rushed past Deanna’s lips- she felt the weight of the word that was once so meaningless to her being carried over and settling in her heart. She barely nodded, afraid that abrupt movement would chase these feelings away.

“I don’t mean to come on too strongly, of course,” Deanna continued. “You are more than welcome to join your friends outside.”

Now, a shake of the head from Castiel, almost imperceptible.

“You aren’t like the others, are you? Not the ones I’ve met. You’re a quiet little bird.”

Now, a smile; impermanent and small and radiant.


End file.
